


The Sagas of Saskia

by StripeyLittleFishy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: parent!strade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripeyLittleFishy/pseuds/StripeyLittleFishy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade had never dealt well with being alone, yet with Sherlock dead, John preoccupied with Mary, Molly with Tom, and Mycroft.... being Mycroft, he appears to be exactly that<br/>When he's called out to an active case, he  has nothing left to lose.<br/>When he comes back, however, it may be an entirely different story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saskia

**Author's Note:**

> These are being copied over from Morella, and I'll update as and when. Not betaed, hopefully spell checked, but I will make no promises....

Tonight, Greg Lestrade realised for the first time that he was completely alone in the world.  
Sherlock was dead. John was going to propose to Mary anytime now. Sally had gotten herself shot, leaving her well out of action, and Anderson had lost his mind. Even Mycroft- lofty, aloof, and a general know-it-all had a girlfriend in Anthea. Greg’s only friend now was his beer, and even that was out of reach now, as he sat, drowning in paperwork.  
He had been expecting to work through the night when the call came.  
“Lestrade- you’ve got a case.”  
He was out of the door like a shot, the operator still giving details as he did so.  
“We’ve had a call from a little girl- I’ll send over the recording.”  
“I don’t want recordings, I want facts!!” He shouted down the phone.  
“It’s a murder. Husband has shot his wife, two kids on the scene under threat. It’s still active, sir. The bloke has a gun, and is threatening the little boy. The little girl called the police, and we’ve told her to get out of the firing line. I’ll send her recording, as you may find it useful.”  
A police car was waiting outside as Lestrade dashed out of the doors if New Scotland Yard. Sirens blaring, the driver pulled away as the recording reached his phone.   
“999, what’s your emergency?”  
“Help me- Daddy’s got a gun. He shot Mummy, and now he’s going to get my big brother, Noah. Help us!!” the little voice on the phone sounded so fragile- she could only be five years old at the most. The operator did all he could to keep the girl quiet, as he found out what he could from her.   
Her voice still ringing in his ears, Lestrade’s car reached the house, and he was out of the door before it had stopped. The rest of the team followed suit. 6 men, fully armed, broke down the door, and followed screams to the scene of the crime. In a dark living room they found the murderer and his victims. A woman lay by the door, blood slowly sinking into the carpet around her. In the centre of the room stood a man, clutching a young boy. He had a gun in his hand, and the barrel in the boy’s ear.  
“Drop the gun. We’ve got you surrounded.” Lestrade’s voice was clear and calm, despite his scrambled mind. Lestrade’s men swiftly surrounded the pair, guns trained on the man.  
“One more step, mate and I’ll fire. Then his blood’s on your hands.” The man met Lestrade’s gaze, a twisted smile on his lips, and sickening delight dancing in his eyes. The boy squirmed, tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried to break free from his father’s vice-like grip. “Stop it, you little shit.” The man growled, looking down for long enough that Greg could edge closer.  
“Stay there, sir.” Sarcasm sang in his tone. “You might have all your fancy men and flashy lights, but when it comes down to it, you’re just a man. Just like me.”  
“I don’t threaten children and kill their mothers for fun.” Greg responded, ice in his voice.  
“I see you!! You’re gonna try and shoot me first. Well that’s not gonna happen. If I’m gonna die, then so’s he. Like father, like son. And in that case, it had best be like mother like daughter too.” Pointing his gun to the ceiling, the madman fired a single shot, and a muffled scream could be heard, though whether it was of terror or pain, Lestrade could not tell.   
“Now then, a few more shots and then we’ll see you all in hell, won’t we Noah? Won’t that be fun? Yes, it will!” Lacing his fingers through the boy’s hair, the man forced his son to nod, before beginning his countdown.  
“5…” Guns cocked all around the room.   
“Don’t bother, lads.” The man muttered. “He’s going down first. 4…”  
“Not if I can do anything about it.” Lestrade replied, forcing his gun out of his belt.  
“3… Oh really? Women and children first. Common courtesy, y’kno-“ The man’s spiel was cut short by a well-timed shot from Greg. The man sank slowly to the floor, still gripping his son’s head, although the gun now sat at his waist. “Thanks… thanks for that, De… Detective Inspector. Time’s up, sonny boy.” With that, the madman’s pistol fired one last time, the bullet colliding with the boy’s spine in a resounding crack.   
As the two bodies crumpled to the ground, more sirens blared outside. A team of paramedics swarmed in, pushing Lestrade out of the way. “Right then, lads!” he shouted over the racket. “We’re now looking for a young girl of about five. I’ll scout upstairs. If you find her, then stay completely calm. You’ll be the only one she trusts, and so you’ll be escorting her to hospital. Let’s go.”  
Turning on his heel, Lestrade stumbled up the stairs, searching the walls for a lightswitch of some sort. There were four rooms upstairs- a bathroom and master bedroom, a blue room that must have been the boy’s, and one more on the end. A pale pink door lay slightly ajar, and this, Lestrade decided, must be her room. Most likely she’d be here.   
“Hello?” He called, pushing the door open slowly, dreading what he may find. He could see where the bullet had ripped through the floorboards a few minutes ago, and yet there was no blood, or body. That could be a good sign. Flicking on the light in the room caused a slight stirring, and he spoke again, pushing the door to behind him. “Hello? It’s alright- I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Greg, and I’m a police officer. It’s safe for you to come out….” Lestrade had no idea what to do. He’d always wanted a child, but his wife was not so keen, to put it mildly. Letting instinct guide him, he looked around the room. Where would a child hide? He asked himself, before seeing the obvious- in the cupboard. Leaving plenty of room for her to bolt, he carefully opened the cupboard door. He saw two little feet snatched out of sight, before spotting the little form cowering away from him. Crouching down, he crept forward, before reaching out a hand to her. “It’s okay, little one. Let’s get you out of there, hey?” Two blue eyes blinked back at him, gleaming in the shadows, yet painfully bloodshot all the same. “Come on.” Greg coaxed, and eventually a cold little hand met his own. Pulling gently, he hauled the girl out of her hiding place. She stumbled as she stood up, and only then did Greg realise just how small she was. How was it possible to be so small?  
“Are you hurt?” He asked, and she responded with a small shake to the head. Her bottom lip trembled, and then Greg saw that her whole body was shaking with shock. Acting on impulse, he pulled her into a hug, and before long, she was sobbing on his shoulder, as the pure terror of what had happened hit her full on. Greg soothed her as best he could, and when her sobs subsided, he guided her over to her bed, and sat her down, kneeling to meet her at her level. “Alright then, little one, we’ll get you out of here in a moment, but first I need to know a few things. First, I need to know your name.”  
“S-s-saskia.” She whispered, and Greg smiled encouragingly.  
“That’s a lovely name. And how old are you, Saskia?”  
“I’m five in November.”  
“Alright then. Now, what we’re going to do is I’m going to take you downstairs, and then we’ll take you to the hospital, just to check you over and make sure that you really are fine. Would you prefer it if I came with you? I know that hospitals can be quite scary when you’re on your own.”  
Saskia nodded. She really was a beautiful little girl, with wide blue eyes and wavy dark blonde hair.   
“Alright then. Are you alright to walk downstairs, or shall I carry you? It’s been a shock for you, hasn’t it?”  
Again, the little girl nodded, and Greg picked her up, putting her arms around his neck, before making his way down the stairs. One of his men met him there, and Greg brushed him off.   
“I’m taking her to the hospital, as agreed. Are you alright to finish up here? Good.”

Without waiting for a response, Greg strode out of the house, and met the final ambulance driver there. “She’s asked that I come with her. Her name’s Saskia, she’s five in a few months, and she’s most likely in shock.”  
Saskia clung onto Greg’s hand all the way to the hospital, and even when they took her in for treatment, she was reluctant to let go.   
“I’ll be here when you come out, I promise.” Greg told her, as he gently prized her fingers off of his.  
His flat was not far from the hospital, and by the time Saskia came out of the treatment room, Greg held a teddy in his hands. “They’ll want to keep you the night, Saskia, so I thought you may want a little company. This is my friend Fred- would you like him to stay with you?”  
“Yes please.” She responded shyly, still unsure as how to talk to a police officer.  
Greg tucked the teddy under the covers next to her, before saying his goodnights. “I’ll try and drop by in the morning to see how you are, yeah?” He suggested.   
“Okay. Night night Greg.”  
“Goodnight, Saskia.”

Greg didn’t sleep much that night, as he frantically searched the records to find a next of kin for Saskia, or her brother Noah. It was touch and go for him at the moment, and the odds were never going to be in their favour. And so it was, during the night, that little Noah slipped away, at only eight years old. He’d given up his life to save Saskia’s, by drawing their dad away so that Sakia could call the police. Such bravery from a child was shocking within a child, and yet Noah had done this on impulse. There was no doubt In Greg’s mind that if Noah had lived on, he’d have be an amazing man.  
The next morning, he was told that Saskia was to be put up for adoption, and when he stepped into the room that had been hers for the night, he was greeted with a small smile. But it didn’t last long, when she realised that she was on her own now. Her big brother and her mum were gone, and because she hadn’t started school yet, she had no friends. Leaving her behind that morning was hellish for Greg- to see the loneliness, the fear, the hopelessness return to her eyes was almost too much for him to bear.  
He knew what he would have to do now.  
He had always had a spare room in his flat, and, until now, it had just been gathering dust. And, by some odd twist of fate, it was already pink.  
Due to his status in the force, and a few quick calls to Mycroft, passing adoption papers through was simple- the state didn’t want to do the extra paperwork of putting her in a care home to start with, and when a willing, trustworthy adopter appeared almost immediately, with the British Government behind him, they were all too happy to speed it through.  
Greg dropped in at the hospital one final time, to see Saskia up on her feet, looking nervous.   
“I’m sure that the man adopting you will be lovely.” Greg heard her nurse say, before she straightened up to meet her boss. “In fact, Saskia, he’s just arrived. Come and say hello.”  
Cautiously, Saskia popped out into the corridor, before ducking away again. She was too scared to look. Soon, Fred’s head was stuck out into the corridor.  
“See?” said the nurse, encouragingly, “Teddy thinks it’s alright.  
“His name’s Fred!” Came an indignant little voice, and Greg smirked. I used to do that….  
Saskia finally slipped out of the door, Fred tucked tightly under her arm. She barely dared to look up, as Greg knelt down to her level.  
“Fancy coming home with me, Saskia?” Greg asked, and she looked up, her eyes taking on a new light.  
“IT’S GREG!! I’M GOING TO LIVE WITH GREG!!” She cried, dashing down the corridor and flinging her arms around his neck.  
“Yes, yes you are.” Greg laughed, returning her hug. “And we’ll have to get up to all sorts of adventures, won’t we?”

“Yeah!!”

“See, I told you he’d be alright!” The nurse called after her.  
“Well I didn’t know that Greg has a big, schmancy surname!”  
“What’s wrong with Lestrade?” Greg asked, suddenly defensive.  
“It sounds weird without the Greg in front!”   
“I suppose it does. But it’s not as weird as one of my friends’ names.”  
“What is it?”  
“Mycroft Holmes.”  
“It sounds like Piecroft!!” Greg smothered a smirk, before scooping a giggling Saskia up, bear and all, and carrying her out to the car, both waving goodbye to the nurse.  
That night, after a bedtime story, Saskia snuggled down in her new bed, after giving her new dad a hug. “Greg?”  
“Yes sweetheart?”  
“Am I allowed to… I mean, can I call you Dad?”  
“Of course you can!! Why ask?”  
“Yay!! Night night then, Dad.”  
“Goodnight Saskia.” With that, Greg pressed a kiss to her forehead and left. He did stop in to check she was still breathing many, many times that night, and was vaguely startled when he was bounced awake the next morning by a dinky, blonde bombshell.  
But Greg didn’t mind. Nope. Not in the slightest.  
For the first time ever, he felt needed. Depended upon. Loved.  
Life with Saskia would be different, of course.  
But, bloody hell, it was going to be fun.


	2. Saskia and Winnie the Pooh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saskia may be safe from harm, but how can she escape from what's in her head?

Life was never going to be easy for Saskia in the first few months after the attack, and Greg had known that from the moment he set eyes on her. She’d watched her father take her mother’s life in cold blood, then her brother had given his life to save her- not an easy burden to bear when you’re only four and a half.   
The first time that Saskia had had a nightmare, Greg had been woken by small footsteps outside his door. He’d held her close as she sobbed, then tucked her up in his bed, to keep her from the lonely darkness that shrouded her room. The fear in those bloodshot eyes was enough to break Greg’s heart three times over, and the tight grip she kept on Fred added to the brokenness of this little child.   
The same thing happened the next night, and the next, and soon Greg knew to be there before Saskia even woke up, smoothing her hair, and whispering comforts in the vain hope that she would wake before it got too bad. Being with the police, Greg was used to being up at all hours, but the sleepless nights began to take their toll on Saskia. Dark circles formed under her eyes, and she began to lose her bounce. Greg tried everything- leaving the lights on, audiobooks, chamomile tea (Saskia did not approve)- but nothing seemed to work.   
It took a nasty turn of events to break the fog that held Saskia down. As per usual, Greg was awoken by Saskia’s screams, and was halfway down the hall when he heard a crash, and then a cry. Saskia had thrown herself from her bed, and in doing so, caught her head on the bedside table. A big purple bruise was already swelling on her head, and Greg instinctively gathered her up in his arms.   
“Saskia? Saskia, can you hear me? Saskia?”  
“Daddy??” She asked, eyes searching the dark room.   
“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”  
“It hurts, Da…. Make it stop!!”  
Her little face was crunched up in pain, and Greg knew that he wasn’t going to be taking chances. Sweeping Saskia through to the kitchen, he sat her on the table, and scrambled for an ice pack. “Right then Saskia- hold that where it hurts whilst I throw something on, and we’ll take you to the hospital to get that checked out…. Hang on.”  
The wound was already swollen and angry, and Saskia was baffled at the sudden turn of events- confusion, Greg had been told, was one of the first signs of concussion. The next half hour was all a bit of a blur to Greg: the drive to the hospital, bumbling hospital staff, and spell in the waiting room not helping in the slightest to ease his troubled, still sleepy brain. The doctor quizzed him on Saskia’s sleeping patterns, as she lay across a couple of chairs in the doctor’s office, completely and utterly dazed.   
“Are these nightmares common?”  
“Consistent, as of last week. Every single night, except she normally manages not to fall out of bed. It’s hardly surprising though doctor- it’s been a rough few months, eh Sass?” He looked down at the still form, ruffling her hair fondly.  
“Well, the fact that she’s sleep deprived is making her nightmares worse. I’ll prescribe a course of sleeping pills for her to take, one a night; an hour before bedtime at least, else it could make the nightmares worse. As for now, I’ve given her painkillers, and she just needs to take it easy for today. I’d say bed rest, but that wouldn’t help. You know your daughter best, so I’ll leave it up to you. The swelling should go down soon- by the weekend, I should say. I’d advise seeing your GP if you have any more concerns. Any questions, Mr Lestrade?”  
“No, thank you doctor.”  
“Okay then, off you go. Take care, Saskia.”  
The painkillers made Saskia drowsy, and when they arrived home as the edges of dawn were making their debut, she was all but asleep. A few hours later though, she was awake again, but very subdued. Greg made pancakes for breakfast, and tucked Saskia up on the sofa, swathed in blankets.  
“D’you want me to put the TV on, Sass?” He asked, kneeling next to the sofa, trying to make eye contact, but instead being met with a mess of blonde hair.  
“If you’ll watch with me.” Came the small reply, so faint that Greg all but missed it.  
“Alright then, sweetheart, let’s see what I’ve got.” Sifting through his collection, Greg discovered some of his old favourites- Ivor the Engine, the Clangers and then, “I know what you need!” Greg exclaimed, slipping an old video into the player and grabbing the remote.  
And so it came to pass that Greg Lestrade spent a day on the sofa, curled up with his daughter, and watching his entire collection of Winnie the Pooh. The hand drawn characters hadn’t lost their charm, nor the storyteller his lulling voice. More than once, Greg caught himself falling asleep, and then, suddenly he awoke in near darkness. The video had ended, and Saskia was fast asleep on his shoulder. Greg knew there was a reason that he had put the sofa so close to the wall, and now he could reach both the lamp behind him, and his book. Saskia’s peaceful breathing began to put his mind at rest. No horrors were haunting her now, and the bruise on her forehead was looking better by the hour.  
It took a lot of willpower to wake the sleeping form, but when he did, Greg could see that the rest had done Saskia a world of good. The light in her eyes was back, and so was her appetite. Well-fed and well rested, Saskia snuggled back up in her bed for her bedtime story, which just had to be Winnie the Pooh. Her love for these stories was more than reciprocated by Greg, and through it, he discovered the perfect way to put Saskia to sleep. Whenever she awoke in the night, and came to him, it took but a few verses of The Hundred Acre Wood to send her to sleep. 

Deep in the hundred acre wood  
Where Christopher Robin plays  
You will find the enchanted neighbourhood  
Of Christopher's childhood days   
A donkey named Eeyore is his friend  
And Kanga and little Roo  
There's Rabbit and Piglet  
And there's Owl  
But most of all Winnie the Pooh 

Winnie the Pooh  
Winnie the Pooh  
Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff  
He's Winnie the Pooh  
Winnie the Pooh  
Willy nilly silly old bear 

Winnie the Pooh  
Winnie the Pooh  
Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff  
He's Winnie the Pooh  
Winnie the Pooh  
Willy nilly silly old bear

And so the seeds of Saskia’s love of Disney, and of music were sown, and Greg’s love of the same rekindled. Sometimes, he thought, these things really can happen for the best.


	3. First day at the Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Saskia to meet the Yard- but what will they make of Greg's new daughter?  
> And, more importantly, what will they make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update for this evening I'm afraid.   
> See you dreckly,  
> Z xx

It was almost the end of summer when Saskia met the Yard. She was due to start school in a few weeks, but a particularly paperwork-heavy case dragged Greg back into the office. After he was promoted to DCI, his work had become much more desk-based, which was good as far as Sass [and his safety] were concerned, but he did find it horribly dull. Usually he could do the majority of the paperwork at home, but when gathering statements and scrambling together evidence from all over the Yard, Greg decided that it was easier to stay in the office.  
Surprisingly, Saskia didn’t seem too averse to the idea, and by 9 that morning, the two were in the office, quietly getting on. Greg had cleared one side of his desk of its organised chaos, and here Saskia set up camp, colouring pencils all lined up in a neat, rainbow row and paper tucked away nearby. Side by side, the odd pairing scribbled away, both with brows drawn and tongue stuck out in concentration, Greg’s black ink slipping over page after page of forms, and Saskia’s pencils rolling back and forth as her drawing came to life. When Greg asked what she was drawing, Saskia dived over her work, hiding it from his view. “You can’t look, Daddy- it’s a secret!!”  
“A secret, hm?? Not a secret that the Tickle Monster could find out??”   
Saskia giggled, “Nope!! It’s a surprise!!”  
“Well then, surprise me, little Sass!” Greg smiled fondly, ruffling her blonde hair fondly, before returning to the pile of paper in front of him.   
The next time Greg spoke, he did so whilst standing up. “Now then, Sass, I’m just going to go and ask Sally something- be good, don’t burn my office down, and don’t bite anyone. Even if it is Anderson.”  
“Whhyy??” Saskia asked, “I’ve never met Anderson. He doesn’t sound very tasty.”  
“I couldn’t possibly comment!! I’ll be back before you know it, but if anyone asks you where I’m on a Sally hunt, alright??”  
“You’re going on a Sally hunt, you’re gonna catch a big one, but you’re not scared!” Saskia chanted, and Greg grinned “I don’t think Sally’s a bear, Sass. Nice try though. See you in a bit.”  
Saskia hummed in response, her little pink tongue sticking out between rows of shiny white teeth as she focused on a tricky part of her picture.  
Soon after Greg left, Sally knocked on the door. “Greg?” she called, as she pushed the door open, before doing a double take. Her boss appeared to have become a blonde, four year old girl, and when the girl looked up, her face was confused.   
“Who are you?” she asked, curious.  
“Well, I was about to ask you the same thing! I’m looking for Detective Inspector Lestrade??”  
“I’m Sass, and Daddy went on a Sally hunt…. But I asked first!”  
“Well that’s interesting, because I’m Sally!!”  
“Ohh…. Well, Daddy’s looking for you.”  
“I’ll wait for him here then, else it’ll end up in a wild goose chase. How about you tell me a bit about yourself, Sass?” Sally asked the question to try and place Sass- Greg had never mentioned that he had a daughter, and she pondered how much she had forgotten whilst she was away.  
“Well, my full name is Saskia, but everyone calls me Sass. I’m five soon, and I like drawing, and Disney, and, and singing, and Winnie the Pooh, and I love my Daddy very much. He’s not like Father.”  
Sass’ little voice trailed off sadly as Sally’s heart melted. Finally there was someone who genuinely cared about Greg, and it sounded as if the feeling was mutual. For a moment, Sally pondered whether to press Sass on what she meant, but instead she changed the subject.   
“What are you drawing there? May I see??”  
“Only if you don’t tell Daddy. It’s a secret.”  
“I won’t tell, don’t worry.”  
“Well, it’s a picture of me and Daddy, and Winnie the Pooh, and Piglet, and Owl, and Tigger and Eeyore. I think Daddy’s like Eeyore when he’s tired, but normally he’s like Pooh Bear.”  
“What, all stuffed with fluff?”  
“….It’s Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh….” Greg sang as he pushed through the door, before stopping abruptly when he saw Sally. “THERE you are! I’ve just been all over this bleeding building looking for you!”  
“Which?” Sass asked, blue eyes feigning innocence, as Sally smirked at her boss.  
“I didn’t know you like Winnie the Pooh, Greg.” She commented.  
“Shush, both of you. I see you’ve met Sass.” He replied, bustling into the room, and Sally smiled wryly. “What, this one? Never seen her in my life.”  
“Ha. Right then, I need your statement on the Andrews case- have you got one written out?” He said, taking his seat once more, with a muttered “Alright, Sass?” which was met with a subconscious nod.  
“It’s on my desk, Greg, along with the rest of the files. What do you want from it?”  
“In other words, come and get what you want, because my name’s not Sherlock Holmes. I’d just sat down as well!! Such cruelty to an old man!” Greg grumbled dramatically, earning a chuckle from both Sass and Sally, although the latter was far better hidden.  
“Back in a mo, Sass.” Greg called over his shoulder, as he and Sally left the office. As soon as they were out of her hearing, Sally turned on Greg.  
“You never told me you have an utterly adorable daughter!!” She accused.  
“You never asked!! And I didn’t last time I saw you?”  
“Where did she come from then?”  
“Crime scene.”  
“Care to elaborate?”  
“She had nowhere else to go- her dad went loopy and shot her mum, then killed her brother before getting shot down by the forces. She had no other living relatives, and was going to the orphanage. So I thought “Why not?” Best decision I ever made.” A warm smile crossed Greg’s features as he talked about his daughter, warming Sally’s heart.   
“You’re rather fond of her, aren’t you?”  
“I should hope so- I’m her dad after all, and certainly don’t want to end up like her father now, do I?”  
He’s not like Father. Saskia’s voice rang through Sally’s mind. “The poor little thing’s had a rough time of it, eh?”  
Greg nodded sadly. “You can say that again- she’s stuck with me now!!”   
Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by the Chief Superintendent’s voice balling round room. “Better them than me- a bollocking by that fella is no fun. Poor bastard.” Greg commented, and Sally nodded, before handing the papers to Greg, before shooing him away. When Greg got back to his office, Sass was still hunched over her drawing, pencil in hand and fierce concentration on her face.   
“Am I allowed to see yet?” he asked, sidling over to stand over her.  
“No!! Not til it’s done!! Go ‘way!!”  
“But it’s my office!!”  
“And this is my bit of desk. You’ve got a bigger bit over there!!”  
“Fiiiine.” Greg copied her tone from earlier that morning, and went back to his work. Sometime later, Sally’s head popped round the door, and she greeted them with a smile “Coffee for you, boss, and squash for Sass.”  
“Merry Christmas to you too, Sally!!” Greg grinned as Sally passed the polystyrene cup to him, before crouching next to Sass, to see how her masterpiece was coming on.  
“How come Sally gets to see and I don’t?!” Greg whined.  
“Because she’s a girl, and girls are awesomer than boys.” Came Sass’ reply.  
“Can’t argue with that.” Agreed Sally, laughing at Greg’s expression.  
“Sally Donovan, are you leading my daughter astray?!”  
“No, I’m offering to find her some Lego. Any objections?”  
“It’s fine with me, if you’ve got time?”  
“My lunch hour starts before yours, and I’ve nothing better to do. I’m already doing the canteen run for half the Yard in a bit.”  
Greg’s eyebrows lifted. “Food? I don’t s’pose you could possibly add us to that list, could you?”  
“Well, if I suddenly grow another pair of hands, then possibly….”  
“I’ll help!!” Sass piped up, and Sally looked to Greg, who shrugged with a “fine by me.”  
“If you don’t mind, that would be lovely!! I’ll have to find that Lego now!!”  
“Yay!!” Came the squeak, and a guarded smile lit Greg’s features.  
“Well, if you finish your picture-“  
“Grand masterpiece.” Sass corrected.  
“Of course!! Please forgive my grievous error, Miss Lestrade.” A wry smile now crossed Greg’s face, as Sally continued. “As I was saying, hopefully your most stunning grand masterpiece will be complete by half 12- I’ll pick you up then?”  
“Alright then.” The Lestrades chorused in perfect unison without even thinking about it.  
Sally smothered a grin as she slipped out of the office, ready to search for the Lego, and then for Anderson. The man was losing his mind, on the verge of losing his job, and if he didn't get this report to her within the next few hours, his head would be going the same way. As she passed the Chief Superintendent's office once again, she heard his voice carrying on as he had been before, never letting up on the heavy abuse. If he carried on like that, she'd have to take Saskia on a 'scenic route' for the lunch run!!  
As she'd expected, Anderson wasn't in his office, and nor was he answering his phone. Looking around the office, no report was to be found. In fact, the office was abnormally tidy, except for the large folder that dominated the desk with ease. Loose papers and newspaper cuttings stuck out at every angle, and the writing scrawling across the front of the folder confirmed Sally's fears: "I Believe in Sherlock Holmes- Empty Hearse theories".

****

Saskia didn't meet Anderson until after lunch- she'd skipped alongside Sally, bringing not just food but smiles too to the Yard, who were all too happy to see a bright, cheerful face within their dreary days, full of desolation and death. When they reappeared at Greg's office, he had been caught red-handed, reaching for Saskia's drawing, and got a thorough telling off at the hands of the aforesaid young lady. He sent many glances to Sally, all pleading with her to save him, but Sally just stood and smirked, Lego box tucked under her arm and a grin stretched across her face.   
"I'm very sorry, Miss Saskia. Now, may I eat my lunch whilst it's still vaguely warm?" Greg jumped in as Sass drew breath to go off on yet another random tangent.  
"Only if you promise never to do that ever again."  
"I solemnly swear never to try and look at your drawings again without your permission, Miss Lestrade. There, will that do?"  
"Hmm.... Alright then. I s'pose."  
"You've got your dad rather well trained there, haven't you Sass?" Sally interrupted, breaking the staring contest between father and daughter.  
"LEGO!!" Saskia cried, running up to Sally with eyes shining.  
"There you are little miss. If we pop it down on the floor, you'll have more room to play, yeah?"  
Saskia picked up her drawing, and plopped down next to the Lego.   
"Do you trust me this little, Sass?" Greg asked, a twinkle in his brown eyes that Sally hadn't seen for far too long.  
"Yup. Sorry Daddy." Saskia replied, without even turning round.  
"Ouch!" Greg put a hand over his heart, a wounded expression on his face, but Saskia, now absorbed in her Lego, entirely ignored him.   
Sally approached the desk, lowering her voice so as not to disturb Saskia. "I found out who was getting yelled at by the Chief Super, and I think I may know why."  
"Not my division." Greg responded, swiftly signing off another report with a flourish, before picking up the next.  
"Well it kind of is actually. It's Anderson. His desk's all but cleared, and the only thing left is his theories folder.  
"Christ. Well, I'll be expecting a visit shortly, and move Sass away from the door- can't have her getting squished by an angry Anderson now, can we?"  
"Not if I bite him first!!" Came a little voice from by the door, and Sally raised an eyebrow.  
"It's a long story." Greg sighed. "Now, Sally, stop fussing over my daughter, and get on with something. If we're losing Anderson, then we'll have even more paperwork to do before long."  
"Alright then, Greg. See you later, Sass!!"

Not long after Saskia's Lego had been painstakingly moved over to the space next to Greg's desk, the door banged open, and Anderson blistered in.   
"Well, aren't you going to do something? The bastard's going to fire me and because of what? My hobby?!" Before Greg could speak, Anderson stepped on a piece of Lego, and let out a shriek. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE-"  
"LANGAGE, ANDERSON!!" Greg yelled, cutting him short.   
"You're a fine one to talk!!" Anderson retorted, before spotting Saskia in the corner. "And what's that doing here anyway?!"  
"Not a that, I'm a she!" Saskia sang.  
"SHE is my daughter, Phillip, and I'll thank you to be civil to her." Greg replied, cool. "Now, if you'll explain to me what's going on, it would hel-"  
"I'm getting FIRED, Greg!! Losing my bolo- I mean my job, because I've taken on a new hobby-"  
"A new obsession, which is affecting not only your work rate, but also your work's standard and your mental health. You know the rules, Phillip. We're hard-pressed as it is; we haven't got time to be chasing after daydreams."  
"BUT it's not a dream- it's true!"  
"Anderson, may I remind you that, two years ago, you all but forced a man to take his own life. He's dead."  
"But he's not!"  
"Yes, Phillip, he is. He was my best friend, and by listening to you, I helped drive him to an early grave. Is that not enough for you?" Greg's voice cracked on that final word, and Saskia's eyes shifted and narrowed towards Anderson.  
"Now that's not fair! If you just look at the facts, you can-" Anderson strode forward, a set in his jaw as if he may harm the Detective Inspector yet. But he had barely taken three steps when a small figure blocked his path.  
"I don't know what's going on here, Mr Anderson, but at the moment, I don't like the way you're talking to my daddy, and if you carry on like that, I'll call Sally, and you'll definitely lose your job."  
"Move, kid. He's not your real dad, and you have no idea what you're talking about. Shut it, and go back to your toys."  
"ANDERSON!" Greg bellowed, as Saskia looked down, before raising her head once more, tears shining in her blue eyes.   
"You're quite right, Mr Anderson. Greg's not my real father, and I don't know what the situation is here, but I know that my daddy is a good man, and a brave one. And I know what it's like for it to be your fault that somebody died."  
"Of course. And you have a pet unicorn and live in a rainbow fairy castle. Naturally."  
"I don't know who you think you are, Mr Anderson, but you certain don't know who I am. MY real father went mad a few months ago. He shot my mum right before my eyes, and then killed himself, along with my big brother. Now, my big brother was a hero- when Father shot Mummy, he told me to get the phone, call the police, and hide, whilst he kept Father away. It's my fault that he's dead. But Greg came to the rescue, and gave me a home when I had nowhere to go. So don't talk like you know everything, and my daddy's a worthless pile of donkey poo. When someone's dead, they're dead. Now shut up, go away, and learn a lesson."  
Greg's heart swelled with pride, as his little girl tried to set the world to rights with Anderson, but the waver in her voice, the flicker of fear when she mentioned her real father broke his heart in two. Anderson, for once, was absolutely speechless.  
"Anderson, you've done enough. You have been a good colleague, but that time is over. I have nothing to say in your defence, so gather your things, and leave. You have my email address, so you may ask me for a reference when you find a new placement. Goodbye, Phillip."  
"But- but- but I...." Anderson faltered as he processed this, backing away from the desk.  
"Just go, Anderson. I have nothing more to say."  
Closing the door with a harsh thump, Anderson slumped off, defeated.   
"Are you alright, Sass?" Greg asked, quietly moving to crouch beside her. Biting back tears, she nodded, but still moved to bury her head in her dad's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your friend, Daddy. I didn't know, and-"  
Greg rubbed her back, soothingly. "It's alright, Sass. You couldn't have known." They stayed there a short while, before Greg was forced back to his work. "I've got a couple more forms to sign, then we'll go home, yeah?"  
"Okay." Sass said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.  
"Do you want to pop your Lego away, and we'll give it back to Sally on the way past."  
"Can I say goodbye to her too?" Sass asked.  
"I don't see why not!"  
"AND bite Anderson?"  
"Meh. He'd probably taste yucky."  
"Like Brussel sprouts?"  
"Like Brussels sprouts."

Once the Lego was away, Sass squirmed her way back up onto her chair, and leant her head on his arm, watching as he wrote. As his final signature took shape, Saskia slipped her picture under it.  
"DO you want to look at it now?" She asked.  
"I always wanted to see it, but you wouldn't let me earlier!" Greg replied, a small smile on his face, which grew out into a grin to rival that of the largest Cheshire cat when he saw it. "That's brilliant, Sass!!" he cried.  
"Can you tell who everyone is?" She asked, excitedly, now that her secret was out.  
"Now then, let me see. Is that you?"  
"Yup!"  
"And that's me?"  
"Yup."  
"And are these Winnie the Pooh and his friends??"  
"Yeah!!"  
"And are you a fantastic little daughter, and an all-round awesome little lady?"  
"I don't know. You'll have to tell me that."  
"OF course you are, sweetheart!!"  
"And you're an awesome dad!!" Saskia grinned as she flung her arms around Greg's waist, and held him close.  
"Can I stick it up here, by my desk? Then I can see it whilst I'm working, and it'll make me smile."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah!"

And once the picture was in place, the whole room seemed warmer, and brighter, even with the lights off. Finally the dreary room had some life to it, and as Sally hugged Sass goodbye, all three agreed that Sass would most definitely have to come back soon, when there was no Anderson to make things sad.  
"Thanks for being so kind to her Sally- you're a Godsend."  
I'll hold you to that, Mr Lestrade!! But really, don't worry about it- it's the least I can do, and she's a genuinely sweet kid. Now, be gone- I'm sure you have Winnie the Pooh to watch!"

And so ended Sass' first day at the Yard- with her skipping through the double doors, singing and grasping Greg's hand, and Greg with a fond twinkle in his eye and soft smile upon his lips.


	4. Beauty and the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Saturday evening in the Lestrade household, which can only mean pizza and Disney. This Saturday, however, differs slightly from the norm.

A month had passed since Sass had joined the Lestrade household. To Greg, this didn't seem possible, but why he couldn't pinpoint. It felt like yesterday that he had first met the terrified bundle of four year old in the depths of a crime scene, but the Sass that child had become seemed to have been in his life forever. He'd dropped down to shorter working hours after Sherlock's fall and the subsequent investigation began to take its toll on his mind. Sally had been given heavy warnings, losing her a promotion which would have moved her to another division. Deep down, she was quite glad that she wouldn't have to leave Scotland Yard, and the place she now called her home, but it was still quite a blow to her. In the end, her willingness to help her boss saw her taking on so much of his paperwork that when Greg became a DCI, his place as DI was quickly filled by a very capable Sally, who was now well versed in the ways of paperwork and shouting at forensics. Greg had taught her well.

At home as well, there had been changes to how life ran for Greg Lestrade. New routines of bedtimes, of bringing work home, of cooking instead of always ordering in (Greg's doctor was particularly pleased about the last one.) Greg's life was not what it was, but one particular change made all the difference. Saturday nights became Film night (and Pizza Night, but don't tell his doctor.) and Greg discovered the art of relaxing.

But now it was the 1st September, and Greg realised with a jolt that this would be the last Saturday he had with Sass before she started school. And that thought terrified him, yet also spurred him on to make it count.  
When Saturday afternoon rolled around, Greg had worked out what he would do.  
"Sass?" He started, peering over his glasses at the little blonde blob, who was busily sketching a picture of her Fred bear.  
"Yes Da?"  
"Instead of ordering pizza tonight.... Shall we make it together?"  
"Do you know how?" She asked sceptically "Or will it start the fire alarms off again?" Her grin spread as Greg blushed at the memory of just how badly his first batch of pancakes had gone.  
"Hush you!!" He said fondly to the now giggling 4 year old. "I'll have you know that I make a very good pizza."  
"Says who?"  
"Says me. And Sally." He added hastily, to give his claims some grounding.  
"Only if we can put pepper on it." Was Sass' final answer.  
"We could make a smiley face on it, if we're smart."  
"Really?!"  
"Yeah, sure."

Sass bounded up from her drawing, and towards the kitchen. "Let's do it!!"  
Greg followed, a fond smile on his face. "Well, you'll need to wash your hands first."  
Sass stopped, spun around to face the sink, and jumped up onto her stool. "And I need my apron."  
"And your apron, of course."

Greg always loved the time he spent cooking with Sass. That girl could cook for England, whereas his own skills weren't too shabby, but lacked horrendously in some places. The two made an excellent team, and the dough was made, laid and layered within the hour, despite numerous distractions, such as the ultimate question of how tomato sauce factories manage to avoid getting all the seeds in the sauce, and other life changing questions. 

Once the pizza was in the oven, Greg made a great show of dusting down his hands, as he always did (he claimed it made him feel "Professional".), letting loose a great cloud of flour as he did show. When the flour cloud cleared, he was met with a scowl from a disgruntled Saskia, who had been covered by said flour cloud, and now resembled a ghost. A displeased four year old is never a good thing.  
A displeased four year old with a spoonful of tomato sauce is just goddamn dangerous.

The sauce flew through the air, before hitting its target with a well rounded splat.  
"Da, you've turned into Rudolph!!" cried young Sass, dissolving into giggles as Greg came to terms with the fact that he now had a dollop of tomato sauce on his nose. "It's so on!!" he said, emptying the remainders of the grated cheese onto Sass' head. "What? At least it matches the colour!!" were his final words before the First Food War of Greg's kitchen began. By the end, you couldn't see the kitchen. In fact, you couldn't see much, apart from the two grinning faces of a young girl, and her da who hasn't grown up yet.  
It was chaos, indeed, but the best kind of chaos, the kind that it completely worth it in the end.  
Eventually the battle ceased, and Sass was sent to clean herself up and pick a film for the evening, whilst Greg tidied the kitchen, before making himself look human again.

Greg's Disney film collection was his pride and joy. He was an avid collector, and had every film made until very recently. There were a few he refused to get- the ones that weren't "proper Disney", and had let the side down a bit, in his opinion. But Sass loved his collection- in fact, she revelled in it. As she ran a finger along the spines of the DVD cases, she was spoilt for choice. But eventually she found one she had never seen before, yet had always wanted to see.  
"Beauty and the Beast? Now there's a classic one!!" Greg greeted her when she re-entered the kitchen.  
I've never seen it."  
"Oh, it's a good one. I 've not seen it for a while, and we both know what my memory's like, but I distinctly remember that one being wonderful. But now-" Greg said, turning back to the oven, "We have homemade pizza. The best kind, don't you think?"  
"I don't know- I've never tried it!"  
But within a few seconds, that had been changed, forever.  
A wide grin split Sass' face, and within minutes, homemade pizza had been named Sass' new favourite food.  
"Even better than Mrs Hudson's fairy cakes?"  
"Even better!! But don't tell her that, cuz she'll be sad." Sass added, a quiet afterthought in tribute to the older lady. Mrs Hudson had taken quite a shine to young Saskia, and had promised to take her whenever he was caught up in one of his cases. Greg had replied that he may have to fight off Molly for that offer, and Sally too- his daughter was a hit with all of them, soothing his fear that Sass would lack a mother figure growing up. 

Dinner passed swiftly enough, without much more to note. Whilst Greg quickly washed up, Sass had an argument with the DVD player, eventually forcing it to take the disk and load up their film. As a child, Greg had loved Beauty and the Beast, and he was glad to find it just as magical as he’d remembered. But it was not the film that warmed his heart that evening; it was the look upon his daughter’s face, how she laughed in some places, cried in others, and hid her face in his side when afraid, looking for her new father’s touch to reassure her, the embrace which told her that everything would turn out alright in the end. It moved him beyond words to see the depth of his little girl’s emotions, and when the familiar opening lines of the title track sounded, her eyes lit up, lips parting ever so slightly, and she snuggled even further into his side, he couldn’t help but well up himself. This little girl, who had been through so much, at such a young age would surely turn out to be the strongest he had ever known. But for now, she was his little Sass, her breath taken away by the lilting melody and beautiful motion between the Beast and his Belle.

“Tale as old as time,  
Song as old as rhyme,  
Beauty and the Beast.”

And when Greg tucked her into bed that night, she asked him to sing her to sleep. That in itself was nothing new- in fact it was the only way to get her back to sleep if she’d been woken in the night by the demons that haunted her mind. As he’d expected, she asked him to sing “the pretty one from the film”, in her own descriptive way, and of course he’d agreed- how could he not? Soon enough, little Sass was asleep, leaving Greg to slip away as quietly as he could, so as not to wake his daughter.  
And when Sass spotted his copy of the soundtrack of Beauty and the Beast the next evening, a mere 14 hours before her first school day would begin, she insisted that they dance to it. Spinning round with Sass stood on his feet, the evening sun filtering through the living room window, Greg realised that this was one of the first times he had felt truly happy since Sherlock had fallen, almost two years ago. When he heard, he was convinced it was the end for him.  
Sass proved to him that sometimes, tragedy is just the beginning.


	5. First Day at School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is quite long, and speaks of past abuse. Just as a warning, and if you choose to give this a miss, that is absolutely fine. It took a sudden dark turn whilst I was writing. But hey- it meant that I actually wrote the blasted thing!!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support,  
> Z xx

This was it. It had taken hours, an inordinate amount of shopping (handled mainly by Molly, as Greg had no idea what shopping for a four year old girl would entail) and a lot of persuasion (Greg could be very stubborn when he wanted to, as Sass soon found out,) but finally, finally, everything was in place. A small, green book bag stood proudly next to Greg’s in the hallway, packed with a pencil case filled with all of Sass’ favourite pencils (and some gel pens that had appeared as if by magic….Or Sally Donovan. Greg was never quite sure.) A tiny pair of shiny black shoes sat next to Greg’s larger, worn-out ones. A green gingham dress and matching cardigan lay over the chair in Sass’ room, ready and waiting for what tomorrow would bring. Alarm clocks were set, morning routines organised- everything was ready.  
Except for Greg’s heart.  
It was but a mere month since he had first met Sass in the midst of a crime scene, and yet the pride, the responsibility, the love he felt for his daughter could not have been greater if he’d known her since day one.  
Sass couldn’t be going to school, he told himself. At least, not yet. She was too tiny, too young, too vulnerable. What if she got picked on? Or if she had a nasty teacher? If she couldn’t find any friends? If she didn’t fit in?  
In short, Greg was terrified. Sass herself couldn’t wait- there had been no flicker of nerves, and the smiles on the faces of her and Molly almost made it worth it, as they searched the shops to find the prettiest gear they could, and the giggles that ensued as they tried to teach Greg how to do ponytails and plaits. No matter how carefully they explained, something always went wrong, but eventually he managed to make something vaguely presentable, and was rewarded with the honour of trying on Sass’ bright purple Alice band. That photo would come back to haunt him in the future, he felt certain, but apparently, that’s what dads are for, and so he smiled and hoped that the Yard wouldn’t get her hands on it. It helped, in a way, that Sass was so relaxed about the whole business, but once she was asleep, Greg’s nerves set in once again, leaving him staring despondently at a lonely brown pencil that had not been deemed pretty enough to join the rest in Sass’ pencil case.  
When morning broke, everything had gone to plan, and by 9am, Greg had hidden himself deep in his paperwork, hoping that no-one would question the tenseness of his shoulders, or the redness of his eyes, and that London’s criminals would be kind enough to stay put for the morning, at least, if not the whole day. Just until he’d got his head back on his shoulders.  
So when the bumbling fool also known as Anderson’s replacement ambled into Greg’s office with a 3 week overdue report, and not the fast-tracked forensics analysis for a case that was being watched by the whole world, he was shocked to receive a bollocking worthy of the Chief Super from the normally cool-headed Greg. And when he snapped at a rambling PC, for whom small talk was necessary at every point and turn, to find something to do and stop wasting time in idle chatter, the frightened lad shut up like a trap, and scuttled away, traumatised, to warn the rest of the Yard to avoid the wrath of the Detective Inspector at all costs.  
And when Sally heard that, she was perplexed, and mildly pissed, to be perfectly honest. Greg’s name had been dragged through the dirt a thousand times over in the past few years, and she wouldn’t let it happen again.  
So for the second time in the space of five minutes, the PC was shut up again, and tied shut with a threat which Sally knew sounded plausible, but she would never carry out. She swept through the corridors, parting gaggles of new recruits as they got underfoot, and clearing her path with just a look.  
A short rap to the door was enough to draw no end of foul language from the Detective Inspector, leaving Sally feeling like she was stepping into a dragon’s lair. Here goes nothing, she thought, pushing through the door.   
He really was a sight for sore eyes- silver hair standing up on end where he had run his hands through it, imprints of his nails marring his palms, eyebrows frozen into a deep scowl.   
“What is it, Sally?” He sighed, eyes not leaving the piles of paper before him.   
“Just came to check you’re alright, Sir.”  
“And why wouldn’t I be, Sally?”  
“Well, considering you’ve left the new forensics kid crying on my shoulder, and scared the crap out of one of the little PC’s, and now look like you’re plotting my murder, I’d say that you’re not alright at all!!”   
Greg’s eyes rose to meet hers, a touch of resentfulness lingering in his usually warm brown eyes, dulling the gleam that normally resided there.  
“I don’t see why it is any of your concern. Am I not allowed to have an off-day every now and then?”  
“I think this is slightly more than an off-day Greg.” Greeted by a stony silence, she continued in a softer tone.   
“Look, I’m sorry if I’m being pushy, but I am genuinely worried for you Greg. I’ve got a meeting with the Chief Super now, about the Davidson case, but then I’m taking you out for lunch. Got it?”  
“I haven’t got time, Sally, I-”   
“I haven’t got time for you to run yourself back into the ground Greg. Be ready for half one. See you then.” And with that, she was off, leaving a startled Greg behind her.   
Have I really been that bad? He asked himself, not for the first time, but still the first time in a while. He had no idea why he was so worried for Sass; she was a bright girl, and easy to get along with, so logically, she should have no problem settling into school. It was natural, he was told, to worry for one’s child on their first day at school, but it was just as Sally said- it was more than just nerves. Dutifully, he brought his work to a suitable stopping point, and readied himself to leave.  
Meeting Sally at the door, they made their way out of the office building in fire drill silence. Sally was mildly surprised at the lack of resistance on Greg’s part, but that surprise quickly became concern. It was as if Greg’s usual fire had been smothered and extinguished, being replaced with the quiet, despond soul who trailed behind her.  
It hadn’t gotten this bad since Sherlock fell, and Sally had sworn that if it happened again, she’d step in before it got too far.   
The silence prevailed until they had both bought lunch, and found a quiet space in the corner of the restaurant, well out of sight and hearing of the unassuming customer. Sally tactfully let Greg start his lunch before she started her questioning; the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she told herself. “Do you want to talk about it, Greg? Or shall I start guessing?” A few moments of silence followed, in which Greg pulled faces, coughed a little, examined a crack in his fingernail and did whatever he could to avoid making eye contact.  
“Greg?” Sally prompted, hesitantly, and finally, finally, with a heavy sigh, Greg spoke. Just two words, but it was a start. “It’s Sass.”  
Anxiety flared within Sally, but she pressed on. “Is she okay? Nothing’s happened, has it Greg?”  
With many false starts, hand gestures, gap fills and huffs from Greg, Sally slowly pulled the troubles out from him.  
“It’s just…. She’s starting school today…. And…. I dunno…. I’m just…”  
“Worried about her?”  
“Yeah…. I mean, I know she’ll be fine; just look at her’s-she smart, she’s confident, she’s a good kid and everything…. But that’s almost half the problem isn’t it? It’s always the good kids….”  
“Are you worried that the kids won’t like her? That she’ll get picked on?”  
“I guess so…. I mean, not every kid gets adopted from a crime scene by a single man, and so the teachers might assume… y’know, even though we’ve been through everything hundreds of times over, and even got Mycroft in on it at one point. And the kids might think that because her father was a…. well, a –”  
“Fucking loony?” Sally supplied, and her offering was met with a raise of an eyebrow for her language, before Greg continued.   
“Well, I suppose so… And they might project that onto her, and avoid her for that, or for the fact that they don’t want to get into trouble with her dad-who’s-a-policeman, or they might not like her anyway and beat her up for that, or…” Greg rambled on, fears spilling from his lips as tears would fall from the eyes of another man, until Sally cut him off.  
“Greg- is she worried about all of that, or just you?”  
“I don’t think so…. I think it’s just me…”  
“D’you think it could be something to do with your first days at school? Did any of that happen to you?” The look on Greg’s face told Sally all she needed to know and more- she’d hit a nerve, and prepared to backpedal at great speed, when Greg suddenly looked down at his hands.  
“You could say that. When I was her age, I was the kid that no-one would talk to unless they were in a big group. Looking back, it was because they were scared of me, but they weren’t afraid to pick on me en mass. The teachers were scared to get involved, and we didn’t have the social services in at that point…”  
“Why were they scared of you?”  
“They were scared of how I looked. With my arms bruised, face puffed up, even bleeding on one occasion, rolling up to school late every day after a pretty nasty mile’s walk along a main road with no pavement or anything, and I never seemed to have a parent waiting for me at the end of the day. They thought I was some kinda thug or something. Actually it was just my da.” As soon as he mentioned his dad, Greg shut up like a rat trap.

“Do you want to tell me, Greg? It’s completely fine if you don’t….”  
“Well, I’ve started now, haven’t I?!” Greg coughed, clearing his throat of the lump of fear now firmly lodged there, before continuing.   
“My da… he wasn’t a good man. He used to beat me and my mam up if something didn’t go his way. His own personal punching bag. He never wanted a son, or even a wife, but once he got Mam pregnant, then…. Well. We could tell he didn’t want us around. Every look he gave us was full of spite and contempt. He wouldn’t let my mam work, yet we couldn’t afford to eat without her working. She got a part time job once, but when Da found out, she ended up in hospital. Got in a fight, he said. No-one ever looked into it. The teachers didn’t want to get involved with the law, and so no-one ever did anything. The only meal I got was the free school meal every day, and whatever we could get for the weekend. And so it went on and on and on; until my da went missing. They found him eventually, broken up in a dustbin. Just what he deserved, my mam said. Only then did anyone really find out what was going on, and we got help to move on. The kids at school had no idea- it wasn’t their fault. I just assumed that their da’s didn’t beat ‘em where it showed. I thought everyone lived like that. It was odd, when we moved away, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act- the teachers at my new school trod on eggshells with me, and the kids knew something nasty had happened to me in the past, but they never knew what. I always felt so lonely, and no kid should have to do that. And certainly not my Sass. Her story’s already too much like mine.”  
Silence fell over the table. Sally had had no idea until just then that Greg had any kind of past with crime, and without thinking, she stood up, and went over to Greg, pulling him into a tight hug.  
“She’ll be okay, Greg. I promise you that much. Schools are nothing like they used to be- the teachers are trained now, so they’ve got an eye out for her, bullying is treated like Anderson when he’s making theories instead of reports…” Sally paused as she felt Greg chuckle, “… and she’s got the best dad in the world. Very few people could do what you’ve done for her, Greg, and she is so, so lucky to have you.” And on she went, doing anything and everything she could to unravel years of fear and hatred.  
Eventually, they moved back to the office, bumbling along in their usual, awkward manner. This wouldn’t change anything between the colleagues, but the depth of their understanding of each other.  
Greg was pushed out of the office door half an hour before he really needed to leave, so that he could get to Sass’ school in plenty of time, and went the kids piled out of school, Sass flew over to her dad to be scooped into a bone-crushing hug. Greg was pleased to see the number of kids that Sass waved goodbye to- his fear of her not making friends easily was swallowed in moments, before they were off. All the way home, and for the rest of the evening, Sass chattered on about her day, and her friends and how lovely her teacher was, and how she was the only one in the whole class who could tell the time.   
And Greg listened, rapt and in wonder of how much school really had changed. How the kids had a voice in the school, and how they weren’t just a sea of faces who all needed to have the same thoughts. How they were seen as people, who should be treated equally, no matter of who they were, and where they came from.   
Yet another seed was sown in Greg’s heart that night- a new seed of trust, of hope for the future, that before had been dead and buried. It reminded him of one of the hymns his mam always used to sing to him as a child.  
Now the green blade riseth, from the buried grain.  
Wheat that in the dark earth many years has lain;   
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:   
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.  
But in the distance, someone was watching, wasting, waiting for the perfect moment to return.


	6. The Return

It was a cold, harsh London night at the beginning of November, when Greg Lestrade was called out once again. What had appeared to be a simple case had taken a sudden turn towards a much darker motive, forcing Greg out into the streets, leaving little Sass under the watchful eye of Molly. She insisted that she didn't mind, but Greg still felt bad for dragging her out this late at night. But now he was praying that this... mess would be over and done with in time for Sass' birthday, on the 17th.

After walking slap bang into the middle of a screaming match between Sally and his new forensics officer, both of whom had reached breaking point under the stress of trying to get through a trying case on a few hours of sleep to last the week, Greg managed to get to the bottom of things, only to find that they couldn't do anything until the morning, and that his coming in had no effect on anything whatsoever. (Except, perhaps, for the amount of time wasted arguing.) Gutted and frustrated, Greg marched his way out into the car park, hands automatically reaching for his cigarettes. He was determined to kick the habit once and for all, now for Saskia's sake more than anything, and he had done so for a while. But when Sherlock fell, then everything fell apart- not just his resolve, but his entire person. Speaking of Sherlock, he thought, I was gonna visit him earlier. He hadn't been to Sherlock's grave for a good few months, and he knew that it would become overgrown if he left it much longer.

A sharp ringing sound made him pause, glancing around before dismissing it as his mind playing tricks on him again. Regretting every movement, he brought the cigarette to his lips, and fumbled with the lighter, only to freeze when a voce echoed out in the black stillness that surrounded him.

"Those things will kill you."

Greg froze. A thousand thoughts flitted through his mind in those few seconds, as everything he thought he had known for the last two years was turned on its head. Words stumped him- there was no way he could express what was going on inside his skull, as he didn't know himself. In the end, it took just three words.

"Ooh, you bastard." 

"It was time to come back."  
And there he was, slipping out of the shadows of death into the light of life once again. Sherlock bloody Holmes was not dead.  
Just then, Greg didn't know what to think, nor what to do. He'd worked on more murder cases then you've had hot dinners, but never, ever had the victim come back to life. Was it just the hallucinations of an overtired mind? Or was it a miracle? 

"You've been letting things slide, Graham." Nope, Greg's mind told him, it's just a bastard. "Greg!" He retorted.

"Greg." Came the soft echo. The smart-arse, stupid little bastard- but wait- Was Sherlock Holmes actually agreeing to something he had said? And why the break in eye contact? The sudden loss of volume? Was that... shame in his eyes? No, Greg corrected himself. It wasn't shame- Sherlock loved to make jokes out of his name, so it wasn't embarrassment. It was fear.

Greg didn't know how it happened, but one minute, he was prepared to hit the bugger, but the next he had him in a hug so strong that it knocked the breath out of both of them. And yet Sherlock didn't move away like he would've two years ago. The roll of his eyes was audible, yet insincere, and soon enough, he relaxed into the embrace.

Greg saw the bruises on Sherlock's face- fresh and blooming, even under the dim light of the car park- but he didn't ask just yet. There was a time and place, but that time wasn't now. 

In the end, they both ended up trying to break the silent at the same time. "D'you have somewhere to go tonight?" Greg asked, just as Sherlock started "Where did you acquire a daughter, Lestrade?!"  
Both paused, and blinked owlishly, before Greg continued.   
"Crime scene. Simple homicide, caught in the act, but little Sass was left with nowhere to go, so she came back with me. She's only four, bless her heart, and yes, of course it was sentiment, I know. But honestly, Sherlock- where are you going tonight?"

Sherlock's face was a picture, but he kept his mouth shut, in a very smart, if decidedly unSherlockian move. "I... I..."

"Let's phrase this differently. Do you want to stay with me? You know, until you've got things sorted out?"

"That... would be mot appreciated, thank you Lestrade."

"You can tolerate a young kid?"

"I can out up with Anderson. What do you think?!"

And so ended one of the strangest evenings in Greg's life. But with Sherlock around, surely the number of those would be on the rise again soon.

The next morning, Greg was awoken by voices. Confused and still half asleep, he stumbled through to the living room, only to hear an indignant squeak from Saskia. "But orange smarties taste of oranges!!"  
"I can assure you that the taste of oranges in an orange startle is triggered purely by the brain's connection with the colour orange-"

"Sherlock? There is actually orange oil in orange smartest, which makes 'em taste of oranges. Sorry, but Sass wins this round." Greg yawned heavily before continuing. "Now, I was going to introduce you two, but it looks like you've already met. Have you offended each other yet?"

The silence said it all as an intense staring match ensued between two pairs of blue eyes, which ended abruptly with a promise of eggs for breakfast if they both got dressed quickly enough. Both daughter and detective skedaddled, and Greg noticed, not for the first time, quite how childish Sherlock could be when he wanted to.

Sass was first back to the kitchen, and sat at the table, swinging her legs back and forth. "Dad?" she asked.  
"Yes, Sass?" Greg dreaded to think what was coming next.  
"Sherlock's awesome."  
"Well, he can be. But he can awesome pain in the bum."  
"But you still put up with him?"  
"Yeah."  
"Why?"  
"Because he's my friend, and that's what good friends do."  
"Where did he go, whilst he was dead, Daddy? He wouldn't tell me." Saskia's innocent blue eyes shone with curiosity, and Greg had no answer.  
"I don't know, Sass. I'm just glad he's home."

Silence prevailed in the kitchen, until Sherlock ambled through, making Greg jump out of his skin, much to Sass' amusement.  
"Oh hush, you!" Was Greg's only response, before they all sat down to eat.

Greg was surprised that Sherlock didn't try to protest when he was told to eat, but it was obvious that his time away had changed him considerably.

"Sherlock?"  
"Yes, Susan?"  
"Who's Susan?"  
"Don't start that again, Sherlock. You already play that game with me. You need a new one for Sass." Greg interrupted briefly, before stepping back out of the conversation.  
Sighing, Sherlock corrected himself. "Yes, Saskia, what would you like to ask?"  
"I was just wondering where the bruises on your face came from. Did you walk into a door? Daddy did that once- it was really funny!!"  
Sherlock smirked at Greg before continuing.  
"Sadly it wasn't so simple. Whilst Lestr- I mean, your father was glad to see me again, my friend John didn't feel the same way, and was not too pleased to have been tricked into thinking that I was dead."  
"So he beat you up?"  
"For lack of a better expression, yes."  
"But how would that help anything?!"  
Sherlock looked startled. "It let his anger out. And I did fake my death by jumping off an incredibly high building before his very eyes. The fact that I did so to save his life, and two others in fact, didn't seem to make the blindest bit of difference, but that's how John Watson works. Tick him off, and you're doomed." Sherlock let out a dry laugh. "I suppose I got off fairly lightly."

"But that's not what friends do- that's what bullies do!!"  
"Not in the real world."  
"Yes in the real world. My real father- not Greg, the bad one- used to beat my mummy up all the time, and call her names, and give her bruises like yours. He was a bully, and he wasn't my mummy's friend, and then he shot her." The end of Sass' spiel came out in a rush, and Greg reached over to put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into an awkward, one-armed hug.  
"But this was only once. I'm sure John will come round eventually."

"Sass is right, Sherlock." Greg chimed in, breaking the heavy air around them. "John shouldn't get away with that scot-free. He needs to know that taking your anger out on other people is wrong."  
"And I'm certainly going to tell him that."  
"Nope. I will." Greg said, brow furrowing. "I'll catch him after work; ask him to meet me at my office or something, and take it from there."  
And so, leaving Sass in Sherlock's hands (he claimed to have gathered "experience" in his time away, but Greg wasn't sure.) Greg set out to meet John at Scotland Yard.

John’s arrival at the Yard was quiet, as police station appearances go- he made a bit of a fuss about being forced to sign in- “I come here all the time- well, I did, before Sherlock became a bastard- don’t you remember me? John Watson, the one who solves crimes and blogs about it? Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson?” And on he went, his voice getting louder and louder as the officer on the desk calmly repeated that a new policy meant that everyone had to sign in, no matter who they solved crimes with, until John finally gave in. With a huff worthy of one of Sherlock’s tantrums, he brought the pen down with more force than was required, denting the page until it reached ripping point.   
Greg took a while to steel himself before John reached his office. He had heard the argument from his office, and for the first time, he realised just how bad John’s anger had become. Of course, there had been arguments and fist fights after Sherlock had fallen- none too fierce to leave visible scars, but the emotional ones had been another matter entirely- but Greg had just assumed that it was John’s way of coping. That it wouldn’t last much longer.  
Then Sherlock returned, and proved him wrong.  
The door to Greg’s office crashed open as John Watson barged in unannounced. “What the hell was that Greg?!”  
“It’s a new safety policy; government enforced an’ all that.”  
“Why did I have to sign it, though?! They all know me!!”  
“They did two years ago, John, but not any longer. People come, people go, and not everyone carries on listening to stories of “that detective bloke with the hat who jumped off a building” and “his little friend who writes the blog.” The world has changed, John- it always does, and I don’t see why we need a temper tantrum about it.”  
John huffed, and glowered at a cobweb above the office window.   
“I didn’t believe him when he told me.”  
“WHO told you WHAT, Greg? Were you in on it too?”  
“For fuck’s sake, John, stop making yourself the victim of every situation!! I knew even less than you, and trust me when I say this- I lost a lot more than you. Everything I had was on the line- my job, my flat, my hope of ever being employed again, my friends’ trust in me; my life. And yet when Sherlock Holmes walks back into my life, I actually had the decent human instinct to welcome him back, give him a hug, and make sure he knew that jumping off that roof and being tortured on the run for two years was actually worth it. I know you suffered PTSD when you came back from Afghanistan, and anything could’ve set you off. Am I right in saying that, John?”  
“That’s not fair, Greg-”  
“Am I right, John?”  
“Yes, I suppose you are.”  
“So suppose I was a comrade of yours out in the war, one whose life you’d saved, and I didn’t listen to why you were invalided out. I just assumed you’d deserted, and run home like a coward, before beating the crap out of you. How would that sit with you?”  
“That is the most irrelevant analogy I have ever heard. It’s ridiculous.”  
“Is it? Because I can tell you now, John, it’s precisely what you’ve done to Sherlock. What will Mary think of that?”  
“Don’t bring my fiancé into this- she’s nothing to do with it!!”  
“So I’m supposed to sit back and watch you become an abusive bastard who beats their wife whenever they step out of line? I know you shot that cabbie, John, and I know you have an unlicensed weapon. Just like the lunatic that was my daughter’s biological father, just like half the murder cases I work on day by day, people like you get angrier and angrier, and even worse when it’s suggested that they get help, for God forbid, how dare they insult you by suggesting you have anger issues, and then, before you know it, bang-” Greg smacked his fist down on his desk “- Your gun’s smoking, your wife’s lying, her blood staining the carpet. Now the only ones breathing in the house are your two kids, who’ve just seen their mother murdered before their own eyes. Maybe they’ll escape. Maybe one’ll save the other. Maybe you quite like this murder game, and they’re next. And don’t you give me that “It won’t happen to me” bullshit, because that’s what everyone says, and yet one of the main causes of death in women worldwide is men, just like you and I. If it’s this bad now, John, then what of the future?”  
John’s silent stare led Greg to continue, yet his voice dropped in volume as his anger began to ebb away. “All I’m saying, John, is that you can’t carry on like this. You and I both know people who can help, and who won’t judge you for it.”  
“And if I don’t?”  
“Then you’re talking to the wrong man, mate.”  
“Ooh, I’m scared. What are you gonna do, Greg? Send me to the head teacher’s office?”  
“John, I’m sorry, but you leave me no choice. I’m arresting you on suspicion of abuse, disorderly behaviour and insolence to an officer. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court.”  
Bang on cue, Sally and some of the new PC’s appeared on the scene, and escorted John down to the holding cells. When she reappeared, Sally took Greg aside and asked “What was that for?”  
“There’s nothing like silence to reflect in. He needs to get his head straight on his shoulders and get help, whether he likes it or not.” Sally said nothing, yet her face told Greg that she agreed entirely. They chatted for a few more moments, before Sally turned to leave, but Greg stopped her for a short moment.  
“Oh yes. Have you heard? Your friend’s back on the scene.”  
“Who?”  
“Odd bloke. Big coat, big hair, big ego. Goes by the name of Sherlock Holmes…”

The next morning, everything seemed to be seen under a new light. After a night in the holding cell, John was a different man, who was finally ready to try and make a change, knowing that he would have the support of not only Mary, but that of Greg, Molly, Mrs Hudson- everyone. Even Sherlock muttered some tips for surviving rehab, earning him a glower from Greg. As for Sherlock himself; well, he was moving back into Baker Street. Back on the job before you could say jack rabbit. Sass was sad to see him go, but nonetheless, she helped him move any belongings not already in 221B over there, and made Sherlock promise to come to her birthday party, promising him a pirate theme, and even a hat. He would forever deny it, but the gleam that shone in his eyes told many tales of childhood within, quite literally, the blink of an eye. Greg simply went on as he always did, taking life as it came, and doing what lay straight in front of him. And for the first time he could remember, Greg was completely content. And nothing could take that away from him.


End file.
